Dear John

She hides behind the hundreds of miles of cables between them. Not in the closet though. Too many skeletons there. But from behind all the cables it is somewhat easier for her to say goodbye.

As cliched as it sounds, it’s not you, it’s me, she says.

And he is thinking of this stray cat outside his home. One day she is all like pet me and feed me and I will always be yours, he thinks, and the next day she is nowhere to be seen except for a pungent reminder hastily covered in the front yard while she has gone whoring herself on some other street and you are left to wonder what it was all about.

After a long silence she says, say something.

I am going to watch Kubrick tonight, he finally says.

Keep the rewind button warm, she says almost automatically, something he used to tell her for her wont of constantly rewinding to re-watch scenes.

Maybe I will. Just so you know, only reason to watch is because I could use a little less drama in my life right now, he says.

Sorry, she says.

Could be worse. I could be watching Wes Craven, he says.

A sigh from the other end. I just want you to know that …

Gotta go, he interrupts her abruptly and just before disconnecting the line he says, I think I hear a cat outside and I am pretty sure she needs me.